A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Eight - So Why Don't You Blow Me?

Gerard was getting a little worried.

Of course, he'd never admit that. But in the relatively safe confines of his mind, it was practically all he could concentrate on.

It had been a whole week, almost a week and a half, now, and he was still here. He'd expected to be out in at most a week...and now his days were trickling away steadily, like sand in an hour glass. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

And then there was Mikey- he didn't know what they'd done with his little brother, although they better have fucking let him go, or they'd be sorry they were ever born. Gerard would make sure of it, he swore to himself. He knew that weaknesses were bad, but he also knew that people were defined through their struggles, and this- this was a struggle, one that made him a very strong human, one that made him superior.

He might have been taking it out on Frank, which he really couldn't help. Every little word that came out of his stupid little mouth was irritating enough to make him nearly snap, which was a very bad thing, because if you were around when Gerard Way snapped, you probably wouldn't be in great shape afterwards.

But it was hard for them to avoid or ignore eachother- they were stuck in a jail cell together, and both doomed to similar fates because they had done similar things. Well, you know. Somewhat similar.

However, Gerard had done a fairly good job of not snapping in front of Frank. He'd kept himself more or less under control and only shoved the other up against a wall once, which led to them making out, anyways. More like him making out with Frank, if anything. Frank wasn't too keen on anything involving both of them after Gerard's rejection, and Gerard knew it. He just wanted to make it as hard (literally) as possible for Frank's own discomfort.

The thing that ended up sending him over the edge was the visit he received near the very cusp of February and March.

The man who came to his cell to take him to the 'visitors' room was stocky and silent. Gerard thanked God that there was finally someone in this place who valued peace and quiet. Between Frank, Ray, and everyone else in that hellhole, his ears were practically bleeding on a daily basis.

The visitor room was drab and empty. Large panes of bulletproof glass separated his side of the room from whoever his visitor was. There was a phone in between, a cordless one so that Gerard wouldn't be able to choke his guard with the cord. Which would be tempting, but would probably solve nothing. And Gerard didn't murder if it solved nothing. Unless he was angry.

And he was about to be very angry.

As soon as the visitor stepped into the room, flanked by two more prison guards, Gerard felt a low thrum of rage start in his head and chest. He shook it away, though- the fact that he knew this man was to remain hidden.

The man sat down, his dark suit not at all out of place in the shadowy room. His hair was short, neatly cut and blonde. He had a scruff of equally blond facial hair, not exactly a full beard but half of one, if Gerard was being fair. Which he wasn't.

The man picked up the phone.

The prison guard behind Gerard wordlessly handed him the phone on his side and he slowly raised it to his ear. This was so ridiculous.

"Hello, Gerard Way. My name is Agent Bryar."

"Is it now?" Gerard said carefully.

"I think you know it is," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You see, we've spoken before- I was the one who answered your brother's phone when you happened to call us in that church. By the way, so charming, killing in a church."

"Ah, well, the man didn't die in the church, he was shot and died outside the bar across the street, if you remember."

"Did you know this man's name, or was the killing random? Accidental, perhaps?"